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There's something about the fringes of Staten Island that will always inspire sentiments of unease. After the bomb, much of Staten Island has fallen into glorious disrepair, so much so that places that were already in stages of decay look more like monuments to entropy than once urban settlements in decline. While much of the island was suburban residential areas before the bomb, there were two crowning moments that drove this borough of New York into an early grave. The first was the mass exodus of survivors and panicked people fleeing Manhattan. They came by foot, bicycle and car across the bridges to Staten Island, all manner of desperate and frightened people flooding into a crowded place. While some fled through to New Jersey, others simply couldn't — or wouldn't — go further. This, like in Queens, led to an eventual chaos that would in time eclipse the pandemonium in the eastern edge of New York after the bomb.

Staten Island was in the direct path of the fallout from the explosion, and after thousands fled to the island, the entire populace was forcibly evacuated. Those few that managed to stay, clung to their homes desperately, and those few who did would suffer from radiation sickness and the ever-escalating crime rate. By the time Staten Island got the "all clear" from the government, the damage had already been done.

What was one suburban neighborhoods and parklands is now a monument to decay. Houses lie in various states of disuse and ruin, and like much of New York has seen property values nosedive. Few want to move out to a formerly irradiated zone, and even fewer want to return to a place so rife to violent crime. Now, much of Staten Island lies in various states of decay. Houses abandoned by families that fled the city, were forced into forclosure and were never resold, or simply places where entire families went missing and are now squatted in by any number of transients line the once peaceful streets. Staten Island is a home to crumbling infrastructure, spotty electricity, and people who wish to remain undiscovered by law enforcement. Few police will willingly go into this now infamous island.

Staten Island is no stranger to black vans, spending all morning searching for the correct Asian. This time they have a paper for reference, and have finally tracked him down. The van is discretely following him, though isn't driving any slower than normal, just staying on the same streets.

The thing with Satoru is that usually he would be oblivious enough not to notice such a van. But what with having gotten the crap beaten out of him not too long ago, he's a bit more likely to pay attention, now. He's smoking a cigarette, which is about half-gone now, and sort of meandering down the street with one hand in his pocket. On a lark, he decides to stop and lean against a sign in front of a store, cigarette in his mouth, idly pulling his gloves off and shoving them into his pockets and, in the meantime, watching out of the corner of an eye to see what the van does.

The Van's doors spring open very quickly, and out pops Mortimer, with a harpoon gun screwed on to his left arm. "Hey! Asian kid!" he calls out, aiming the harpoon at his hip, then fires. Behind him about five men wearing all black biker gear with red numbers on their helmets step out of the van, though they don't approach yet, waiting for the results of the harpoon.

The intent is to reply with a lazy sort of slur, but as Satoru turns and sees the — harpoon gun. He blinks, but fortunately manages to register in time that he is being shot at and jumps out of the way with a surprise cry of, "Shit!" He hurls the cigarette away, stopping to just stare at Mortimer for a minute. "What the fuck? You've got to be kidd—" and that is when he interrupts himself and turns to start running.

"Arrrr, that's the fastest Moby Bone me ever saw!" Mortimer's eyes turn silvery, beginning to quickly reel in the harpoon like a fishing rod, immediately beginning to chase after him, his five Locos trailing behind him. "In fifty years, they'll say me obsession was me own worst enemy, I say it was the lack of successful boners!" He runs, fast, being a former soccer jock, then with another click, the harpoon is aimed right at the side of Satoru's ass.

Due to present circumstances, 'Toru isn't quite inclined to appreciate the jokes, amusing as they may be. And while he doesn't smoke habitually, it certainly doesn't help, and on top of all that he's never been the athletic type. Either way, he turns to look behind himself periodically to see how closely he's being followed and, seeing that harpoon gun again, he lets out a light shriek and jumps off to the side. At this point he starts to run again, but abruptly stops and, panting, leans forward, hands on his knees, and shouts, "What the hell do you want, man?! Did Monroe send you too?"

"Arrr, the only Monroe me knows of is Marilyn Monroe, quite the rump on that one!" Mortimer stops, holding his arm out for one of his men to reel in the hook, as he pulls a grenade from his side, biting the clip from it. "Thar she blows, like all good boners!" he yells, promptly tossing the grenade in front of the bone-wielder. When it explodes, it's loud, and Mortimer has his eyes covered with his hand. Apparently the explosion is just a trick, as it's actually a flash grenade, very bright.

"What are you talking about?" Frowning as he asks, Satoru, thoroughly confused, protests, "Adam Monroe, I mwhat the FUCK" Grenade sighted, he stares at it as it flies towards him, and lowers himself to the ground, curling in on himself — though not enough to avoid getting blinded by the flash. Which is rather preferable to getting blown to bony pieces, but is still enough to piss him off. Covering his eyes too late, he screams, possibly overreacting somewhat, and starts yelling again. "Who the fuck are you, what the hell is going on here!!" Sitting, now, not really inclined to try to run blindly.

"Arrr, Moby Bone, it be me life's mission to catch a whale such as ye! Me net, boys!" The Locos pull out a chain net with weighted balls attached to the sides, then immediately thrown the net over the boy. "Don't ye be worryin', yer bony ass be safe in me hands!"

He's got his eyes closed, not that it matters either way, but all the same, panic is ensuing pretty quickly here. "Dude, you just stay the hell away from me, okay?!" Breathing heavily, he moves to his hands and knees, crawling along the ground and using his hands to check for anything that may be in the way. "I'm outta here, I don't even know what the hell's going on—" and here comes the net, followed by him clawing at it. "What the fuck, get this off me!"

"Arrr, no can do, Moby Bone! Ye have a job ta do!" One of Mortimer's men aims a taser gun at Satoru's side, immediately firing it. And yes, he'll send the full force of volts, not taking any chances. "Just keep a stiff upper-lip! Oh, right, arrr!"

And that shot is followed immediately by screams of pain from the incapacitated Asian, who doesn't even know what's happening due to being unable to see it - aside from the whole 'intense electric shock' pain going on. His whole body tenses up as he's Tased, and eventually he passes out from the pain. Which doesn't take long.

"My hook, please." Mortimer's pirate speeech has suddenly ended, one of his men unscrewing his harpoon, then replaces it with his hook, grabbing a part of the chain to drag Satoru back to the van. "The thigh bone's connected to the, l~e~e~eg bone, the leg bone's connected to the, hey, does the knee have a bone?"